To Let a Heart Burn
by Impala Baby
Summary: It's been six months since the static image of Moriarty was broadcast onto every screen in Great Britain and he hasn't been seen since then. Until one night when he pays a certain pathologist a visit. Rated M for violence, smut, and some mild swearing. NB: Molliarty.
1. Chapter 1

"Did you miss me?" a voice murmured in a pitchy Irish accent from the shadowed corner of Bart's Hospital morgue.

Adrenaline pumped through Molly's blood at a speed that left her feeling as though ice had been spiked into her heart. Her elbows jutted out from fright, sending an array of metallic tools clattering to the floor.

"It's been awhile since we were last in here, hasn't it Molly?" Jim asked, strolling out towards Molly's workstation. His hands were hidden away in the pockets of his navy blue suit and he had his most flattering smile on; the one he reserved mainly for his richest and most notorious customers.

Molly turned to look at him, her mouth quite literally dropping in shock. He looked so flawlessly casual, as though hiding in a morgue at night was nothing out of the ordinary. She didn't even want to know how he had gotten in here; it would only remind her of how vulnerable she was. She knew if Jim, or anyone else for that matter, wanted to kill her for her involvement it wouldn't exactly be a hard feat.

He took an almost hesitant step towards her but the second he did she jumped to her feet, grabbing the nearest thing to her in a desperate attempt to defend herself. She reeled away from him, almost falling over her own feet as she stumbled backwards. She was unable to take her eyes off the smartly dressed man and without the ability to see where she was going hit into the back wall sooner than she had expected to. She held up her hands in an attempt to ward him off and noticed that her scramble for some form of protection had left her clutching a glass slide in her hand.

"Ooh careful. Wouldn't want you to cut yourself," Jim teased, his voice intentionally mocking but still somehow gentle and irresistibly smooth.

Molly knew well how fast that voice could change, but she was grateful to hear it regardless. She hadn't expected to ever hear it again.

"Don't bother fighting me, Molly," he continued, slipping into a patronizing tone as he drew a gun from his pocket. He spun it almost lazily in his hands as he grinned at her, practically daring her to say something. He didn't make any further move towards her though, not really wanting to scare her. That wasn't why he was here tonight.

"C-careful," she stuttered, forcing herself to say something. "Wouldn't want you to_ shoot_ yourself," she said, twisting his words in a way that was rather ironic. But she didn't pull it off very well through her broken voice.

He slipped the gun back into his pocket, a stunned expression clouding his face for a brief moment. His features quickly twisted into a smug smile and he shook his head at her.

"That _was _an interesting little stunt, wasn't it?" Jim said slowly, knowing he didn't need to specify to Molly what he was referring too. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Molly gulped down a nervous lump in her throat. She had thought about the day she would see Jim again for years but had given up hope that it would ever come. She had been plagued by uncertainly for over two years and, even after the public declaration of his survival, had still doubted whether_ she_ would ever see him again with her own eyes. She checked him over from her position against the wall; looking for any differences since the last time she had seen him. He didn't seem to have changed a bit, but she could see in his eyes that he had. There was still the devilish glint to them that she had grown to know well, the same flighty flickering of his pupils that made him exceptionally unpredictable. But there was also a deadness to them, something that she had never seen before.

"You didn't call. You were_ supposed_ to call," she muttered, her fists clenching by her sides. She was painfully aware of the glass digging into her right palm but was too angry to care. "For all I knew you did die on that roof."

It was irrational to be mad at Jim – she should be happy that he was alive – but after all the pain she had gone through she couldn't simply be relieved to see him again. She was starting to understand why John had been violent towards Sherlock when had had returned to him unexpectedly. But at least she'd had some warning before tonight; the whole world had.

It was the fact that he had made her wait so long that angered her. He hadn't followed though on their plan, though that wasn't unexpected, but she had betrayed her closest friends to help him and he hadn't even _called._ She couldn't even begin to compare this to how John must of felt. Jim's uncertain death hadn't stopped her from living her life the way it had for John, but it had still played on her mind.

"That's exactly what you needed to think. You were with Sherlock, playing his little pet. I couldn't risk him finding out. You of all people had to at least _doubt _my survival," he replied quickly, his words taking on a sharp edge as he was becoming increasingly irritated with the situation. But what had he expected to happen; for her to welcome him back with open arms? It had been over two years since she had last seen him and had clearly moved on. He knew how quickly people could change if he himself was anything to go by.

"I wasn't playing anything, Sherlock's my friend. And I would never tell him, you know that," she retorted in a desperate attempt to defend herself. She may have double-handed Sherlock but not everything was a lie, she still cared about him. She tried not to let Jim's comment get to her; surely he knew she would never betray him like that.

"I know you wouldn't tell him darling, but you've never been a particularly good liar. It's a good thing Sherlock doesn't look too closely at you, he would have worked it out in a second if he had bothered to observe you in any depth," he replied quickly, his voice lacking the sting he would customarily use to accompany those words.

"I assumed you would have thought that was a good thing," she said numbly, it cut a little deep to know you meant nothing to the most important people in your life.

"Oh it is a good thing, a very good thing. But what do you think Sherlock would do if he knew?" Jim questioned, titling his head to the side as he looked at her. His voice didn't take on its usual taunting tone; he wanted a genuine answer.

"He would hate me," she stated bluntly. She knew he would without the slightest doubt in her mind. If he found out he would likely have her arrested and ensure she never saw the light of day again. He wouldn't understand her reasoning; hell, even _she_ didn't understand why she had helped to keep the most dangerous criminal mastermind alive.

"He would, wouldn't he? It's a pity really, even after that little favor you did for him," he agreed, the right side of his lip dropping to form a slanted frown.

"I would still do it," she said without a second thought. He had to know that. She didn't regret helping Sherlock; she didn't regret_ anything_ she had done that day.

"Molly, you made sure both of us got off that roof alive, but _who_ were you doing it _**for?**_" he demanded, his voice rising with each word until he was practically shouting. He couldn't stand the way she still stood by Sherlock, even after everything he had done to her. If he was lucky enough to have Molly pandering to his requests he certainly wouldn't treat her the way Sherlock did.

She couldn't stop from jumping at his tone; it was always so unexpected. She didn't want to look scared, not in front of Jim. After recovering from the fright she was left feeling baffled – why did he care about her reasoning? He knew how she felt about him and how utterly pathetic it was. Did he just want her to confess to him again so he could humiliate her further?

"For both of you… I care about you, Jim, and Sherlock's one of my dearest friends," she said, trying to sound as strong as possible in her answer, she might as well be honest with him.

"Molly," he sighed, shaking his head as he took a few steps closer to her. "You should have realized by now that Sherlock and I aren't compatible. You are going to have to make a choice," he stated, his voice returning to a harshly neutral tone.

There was no emotion to his statement and Molly was left confused at to what he meant. Was he asking her to join a side, and if so what choice did she have? He had her alone in the morgue, with no way out, and was armed with a gun that he hadn't even tried to hide. She didn't know what to say, the weight of the situation hitting her hard. Jim wanted her to make a choice and she was at a loss for what to do.

"So who do you pick, Miss Hooper?" he asked again when she didn't answer. His voice was no longer full of anger or bitterness but unnaturally meek. "But when has_ he_ ever picked you? When have you ever _mattered_ to him?"

She tried not to feel the sting of that question. It wasn't being reminded that she meant nothing to Sherlock that hurt, it was the fact that Jim had mentioned it.

"Only when he needs something," Jim answered for her, giving her a pointed look.

"You can talk. You're just like him. You only dated me to get to Sherlock, only told me the truth about your identity so I would help you…" she trailed off when she saw the hard edge come into his eyes. She knew when to shut up fast around Jim; he wasn't someone she wanted to aggravate.

"Why am I here now then?" he snapped. He didn't need reminding of all ways he had hurt her, had_ failed_ her. But how could she not understand what he was trying to say?

She stared at him blankly without a clue what to say. What did he want from her, what could_ she_ offer him? Why would he come back after almost three years to see her of all people?

"What do you want from me?" she asked, closing her eyes for a moment and sighing from exhaustion. It had been a long day and the adrenaline was wearing off. She knew she should be scared given that she was alone with an armed psychopath but she truthfully didn't believe that Jim was going to hurt her.

"Nothing," he quipped, rolling his eyes slightly at how slow she was on the uptake. It would be little bit adorable under different circumstances but he didn't have the time for this.

"I won't help you get to Sherlock, you know that," Molly said under her breath, lowering her eyes to the floor. She knew this would have something to do with Sherlock and didn't want to watch Jim lie to her again.

"This isn't about _**HIM**_," Jim all but roared, his hands fisting in his hair in frustration. "I don't care about him anymore, he's proven himself to be so _ordinary_. It was amusing while it lasted but they all become dull in the end," he continued, his voice returning to a calmer tone almost instantaneously.

"I, w-what is this about then?" she asked, her voice shaking in response to Jim's unexpected outburst. He always had her on edge and she couldn't even imagine what it must be like to be at the receiving end of his unrestrained rage. He didn't even seem overly annoyed with her and she was still trembling slightly.

A few moments later, he said, "The last two years, they've been insufferable. I couldn't stop _thinking_ about you…" His voice sounded somewhat hollow. He knew she wasn't any threat to him, he could end her life with a phone call, but he felt disconcertingly powerless under her confused stare.

"I searched for distractions, throwing myself back into my work with ruthless determination but it didn't help. I had to come back. I had to know or else I was going to go completely insane, though I've been told that I already am," he said softly, an unheard sadness seeping though his words. He knew he was putting himself at risk by opening up to her like this but he couldn't stop himself.

"Jim…" she murmured, feeling her posture slacken against the wall. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea that _Jim Moriarty_ had been thinking about her. More than that she couldn't even fathom the possibility that what she had done for him all those years ago mattered to him.

"I don't know what to say…" she said quietly. It was true, what on earth could she say in reply to that? Nothing seemed to sound right in her head and the thought of voicing any of it out loud was ridiculous.

"Don't say anything, I'm leaving. This was a mistake," he replied curtly, his hands fisting by his sides as he turned away from her. He was an idiot. Molly could never understand how he felt about her, no one could. He was a monster, and he needed to leave or he was going to destroy her. She was far too innocent and he knew she had only helped him because she was scared.

"Goodbye, Molly," he added quietly as he walked swiftly towards the door. He tried to ignore how much it hurt to walk away from her again.

"Jim, wait," she called out, her arm reaching out to him as she stepped away from the wall.

He stopped in his tracks, taking a deep breath before slowly turning around to face her. She was stood only a few steps away from him now, her hand drawing back from him to rest by her side.

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. She didn't know what to think let alone what to say; she didn't even fully understand what_ he_ was saying. Her mind traitorously pushed the idea into her head that perhaps he was trying to say that he_ liked_ her, but she shoved it from her mind. This was Jim Moriarty. Someone like him would think nothing of her; she was utterly insignificant.

He looked at her in a way that suggested she had better continue if she didn't want him to walk out that door. She knew if he left now that she would never see him again. He was right; she did have a choice to make. Not between Jim and Sherlock but between what she knew was right and what she wanted.

"I thought about you too. I cried as well, for a few days actually, once Sherlock had left and you still hadn't called. It's pathetic I know, but I couldn't bear the thought that something could have gone wrong and that I could have been partly responsible for your death," she said, her voice barely audible even in the eerily silent room.

"You… cried?" he asked, and his eyebrows rose in confusion. People didn't normally cry over the deaths of homicidal criminals, especially not ones who had destroyed the lives of their closest friends.

"God yes. I had to watch John mourn over a man I knew to be alive and perfectly healthy, while keeping to myself that I was in fact mourning the man who had pushed him into it. It all became too much. I hated myself; I hated _you _for causing everyone I know so much pain. I hated the fact that no matter what you did I still cared about you," she replied firmly, her voice mimicking some of the anger Jim's had held earlier.

Jim remained quiet for an immeasurable amount of time, simply staring at Molly in a mixture of shock and confusion. She didn't know what else to say so she stood silently, not daring to move from her position by the wall incase it startled him and he left. It was as though time and place had ceased to matter and they were left with only the heavy tension of what had conspired between them. He hadn't said it but she knew what he had come here to say. She didn't know if the thought excited or terrified her but she knew what her decision was, what it had always been.

"But I don't care. I don't care that you left me behind. All I care about is that you're here now," she stated, trying to speak with conviction as she broke the somber silence. He had come back for her, not because he needed something but because he _missed_ her. It was a new feeling to her, being missed by someone. She could almost convince herself, even if only for a moment, that she counted.

Jim rocked on his heels for a moment before taking the few steps between them until he was nearly face to face with her. Without a word he reached out and took her hand in his. He closed his eyes for a second, it had been a long time since he had shown or received any form of affection.

"You know I'm not going to change Molly, so you can either accept me for the _foul _madman that I am or you can send me away now and I swear that I will never bother you again," he replied gently, he was quite close to her now and didn't want to scare her away again, if he did she might not come back.

She smiled up at him, her nose crinkling and her eyes widening as she pulled him into a warm hug.

"I know," she muttered into his shirt collar. She hated what he had done and would continue to do but couldn't bring herself to care, he was here and that was all that mattered.

"Molly?" he almost whispered in her ear as he held her to him. He didn't want to let her go, not after he had only just got her back, but he couldn't stay long. He had a client expecting him shortly and it wasn't a customer he wanted to keep waiting.

"Mmm?" she mumbled as a form of reply. She was far to busy trying to memorize the feel of his body against her own to be interested in his questions anymore.

"I have to go. But would you like to have coffee with me later?" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate. It was almost painful to ask her that again, the first time had been under such different circumstances. He had been 'Jim from IT' asking out Molly Hooper for coffee, appearing to the world a harmless gay computer technician, but now she saw him for who he really was.

"That sounds nice… when?" she probed. She didn't want to have to wait long before seeing him again. She had waited long enough.

"When do you get off?" he said as he pulled away from her, titling his head quizzically.

"Eleven," she said quickly, straightening her lab coat as he let go of her. She couldn't keep a small blush from creeping into her face; it was as though they had gone back three years and started all over, but with everything out in the open.

"I'll pick you up out front then," he replied quickly, the same pleasant smile he had been wearing when he arrived on his face.

She could almost see the changes taking place in his face as he prepared to forget about this encounter until later and focus on whatever 'business' he needed to attend to. She honestly didn't want to know what he was going out to do but hoped that he was going to be safe, and that his gunmen would shoot straight if needs be.

She nodded quickly, a small smile spreading across her face to match his. She watched as his figure turned and walked from the room, an unattainable elegance radiating off him. She had to admit there was something undeniably sexy about Jim, even if he was absolutely mad and downright terrifying most of the time.

Looking at her watch she saw it was just past nine. She mentally groaned to herself; she had been rather looking forward to doing the write up for the post-mortem she had finished this morning, but now she just wanted the next two hours over. Wandering back over to her desk she sank down onto her seat and flipped open her laptop, her mind barely registering the words she began to type.

. . .

Song that inspired this chapter: I've Tried Everything - Olly Murs.

Thanks so much for reading! Reviews make me as happy as the crown jewels make Moriarty ;) xx


	2. Chapter 2

Molly's eyes flicked over to the small digital clock on her computer screen every few moments, sighing each time the number hadn't changed enough. It was nearly quarter to eleven but the last two hours had past so slowly that she expected it to be later. She didn't have long to wait now but that knowledge only made her more restless.

She forced herself to return her attention to the document she was working on. She gave her report one last lookover before sending it off to be printed. Seeing that it had been sent she saved her other work and shut down her computer. She felt slightly relieved as she watched the display turn black, she hadn't expected to be focused enough to complete her work after the events earlier this evening.

Hopping down off her bench stool she collected her bag and coat stored under her desk before making her way over to the door. Pushing open one of the double wooden doors she rummaged through her bag for her keys. Finding them she locked the door behind her before wandering down the hall to the nearest staff bathrooms.

Walking into the small room she put her bag down on the counter top before looking up at her reflection. She cringed at the site. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that did nothing for her. There were faint black circles under her eyes, and the lack of effort she had put into her make-up that morning showed. She looked exactly how she felt, exhausted. She hoped she hadn't looked this bad when Jim had been with her. It was almost painful to be around him when she looked like this. He was always so impeccably dressed while she looked frumpy at the best of times. She knew with some effort she could look a lot nicer but her work didn't really allow for it.

Pulling the band out of her hair she ran her fingers through her lose curls as they fell around her face. She slowly braided her hair into a simple plait that she manipulated to rest on her left shoulder. She remembered one time when Sherlock had commented that it suited her better. She quickly pushed the thought from her mind, she didn't want to think about him at the moment; especially not it came to her appearance.

Opening the front zipper of her bag she took out her red lipstick, applying a small amount before placing it back in her bag. She looked up at herself again, feeling slightly better about the sight that met her. But Sherlock's voice jumped back into her head reminding her of Christmas three years ago… evident from her make up and what she's wearing, obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts… Maybe her changes weren't such a good idea after all. Jim would notice straight away, he always did, but what would he think? Would he make some sort of snide comment about it like Sherlock would? No, of course he wouldn't. Sherlock and Jim were very different. Jim would like that she had made some effort for him, and without it she would look truly awful next to him.

She didn't want to waste anymore time thinking about Sherlock or what he thought of her, Jim was waiting. She picked up her khaki colour coat and slipped it on over her white cherry patterned cardigan. She hadn't exactly been planning on going out after work so what she was wearing was going to have to make do. Slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder she walked out of the room and back into the hall.

She couldn't keep a little spring out of her step at the thought of seeing Jim again. She knew she should be worried about her mental state given that she was practically giddy with excitement about her 'date' with a psychopath. But as happy as she may be to have Jim back she didn't want to give in too easily. Jim had put her through a lot and he certainly wasn't going to be forgiven without a decent explanation first. Admittedly she was a little tired but at least they were going to get coffee, she needed to be fully awake for the next few hours. There were some things she didn't want to wait until later to find out about. A lot could have changed in the past few years. She couldn't claim to know Jim overly well and what little she did know was almost irrelevant now.

When she reached the main entrance of the hospital she stepped through the automatic sliding doors and out into the cold night. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of artificially light as she made her way over to a black Rolls-Royce parked a few yards away. The back side-door was pushed open to reveal Jim sitting on the black leather seat inside the car.

"Get in," he called and shuffled over to the next seat to make room for her.

She quickly slid onto the seat next to him, smiling nervously as she fumbled with the seat belt. Once she was settled Jim nodded to the driver who pulled out of the hospital loading-bay.

"So how did work finish up?" he asked casually, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he looked across at her.

"Good," she replied quickly, only meeting his eyes for a second before giving a wary look to the driver and the man in the passenger seat. They had caught her attention the second she had got into the car and for good reason. They practically screamed danger.

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm assuming introductions are in order?" he said, knowing the reason for her unease. She wasn't used to this lifestyle yet. He had only shown her a small part of his twisted life and that had been years ago. She was going to have to adjust soon though if she was planning on sticking around for any length of time, and besides, two gunmen in a luxury car wasn't anything to be alarmed about.

She nodded her head slowly, gulping nervously when the man in the front seat turned to look at her. He had a somewhat ragged appearance and she could picture him being quite tall when standing. It wasn't so much his appearance that unnerved her it but the way he was looking at her. She had feeling that if he wasn't under direct orders not to do so, he would very much like to gut her. His gaze was predatory, and flaring with a threat that needed no explanation. She could practically see his mind screaming at her that this was his territory and she needed to back off.

"This, is Sebastian Moran," Jim said, gesturing unnecessarily to the man she was already staring at.

"Nice to meet you," she replied, her voice coming out far more shaky than she wanted it to.

He didn't even seem to register that she had said anything, only glaring down at her for a second longer before returning his gaze to the window. Even with his back to her she could still feel the anger radiating off him. She forced her eyes away from the back of his head and looked to the driver. She wasn't surprised by Sebastian's hostility; she was a liability he didn't deem worthy of his attention.

"Ignore Seb, he's just in a pout because he didn't get to shoot anyone," Jim teased, but it wasn't in the playful tone he often used. There was a clear warning underlying his words. "This is Caster Trent," he continued, reaching out to tap the other man on the shoulder.

"Nice to meet you Miss," Caster said quickly, lifting a hand off the wheel to wave at her, as he couldn't see her while she was seated behind him.

"You to Caster," she agreed quickly, relieved that he didn't seen overly put out with her.

"Call me Cas. Jim's just mocking me, he knows I hate that name," he said, giving Jim a knowing look out of the corner of his eye.

"Well you're not as easy to wind up as Seb so I have to do something you hate. It would be dull otherwise," Jim replied, returning Cas' stare. He had to admit he enjoyed Cas' company, he certainly wasn't as amusing as Seb, but it was sometimes nice to have some cheerful, compliant company. Perhaps that was why he liked Molly so much.

"You know Seb's going to kill you one of these days," Cas chucked as he turned the car to exit off the highway.

At the mention of his name Seb immediately turned to stare at Cas. His eyes holding the same rage that had been directed a Molly a moment earlier.

"Don't even joke about that," Seb all but hissed as his eyes narrowed on the driver. He couldn't believe Cas found something like that funny; his loyalty to Jim wasn't something to be joked about.

"Come now, we have a guest. No fighting boys," Jim scolded, his voice somewhat mocking. He knew they weren't exactly making a good impression on Molly but what could he expect from the men who he hired for the sole purpose of killing people?

Seb turned to face out the window again, his fists clenched by his sides. Cas returned his attention to driving, feeling a little embarrassed for setting Seb off like that, he knew better than to mention anything that questioned his devotion to Jim.

Molly looked around the car in a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She didn't know what she had expected but it wasn't this. Seb's behavior wasn't startling given the circumstance but his dedication to Jim had caught her by surprise. Cas on the other hand seemed like a genuinely decent guy but the knowledge that he was one of Moriarty's personal hit men tainted that mental image somewhat.

It was pointless to over analyze either of them; it was unlikely that she would ever see them again, so instead she turned her attention to Jim. She realized that he had changed since she had last seen him; she had been too distracted by the new comers to notice before. He was no longer wearing his navy suit but instead was dressed in dark denim jeans, paired with a white V-neck tee shirt and maroon cardigan. She liked it when he was dressed like this, he appeared much more human somehow. It wasn't as formal or constricting. It didn't make any sense really but the change in attire helped her to distance him from his work.

"Here we are," Cas said as he pulled the car into the nearest loading bay.

Molly looked out the window at the quant café on the busy street. The soft glow of fairy light that she could see strung around the shop, paired with the small circle tables and armchairs that filled the room, made the appearance of the place exceptionally welcoming.

"Be back in an hour," Jim called as he opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air.

"Thank you," Molly quickly added, giving Cas a smile as she shuffled across the seat and out the door Jim was holding open for her.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself, shivering slightly from the change in temperature. Jim shut the door behind Molly and gave quick wave to his hit men as the car pulled back out onto the road.

Jim stepped away from the curb and took Molly's hand as he led her into the café. There was something unfamiliar about holding Molly's hand in such a casual way. More foreign to him than that though, was the fact that she didn't seem to mind he was doing it. It was a public display not of affection, but of acceptance. It stated that Molly didn't care if people knew she was with him, that she wanted people to know. That was something new to him, people didn't normally want anyone to know about any dealings they had with him.

He pushed open the glass door of the cafe and held it open for her as she stepped inside. The bronze bell over hanging the door chimed softly and Molly led him into the store, not once letting go of his hand.

Molly smiled at Jim as he closed the door behind them. The smell of fresh coffee and the warmth from Jim's hand still holding hers was a welcome change from the evening she had spent in the morgue.

"Go get a table. I'll order," Jim said as he let go of her hand. He didn't really want to, but it felt far too sentimental to hold onto it for any longer.

Molly quickly nodded and walked further into the café to find a table, looking for one near that back. She had a feeling that whatever they were going to be talking about shouldn't be over heard by anyone else.

Weaving through the maze of small circular tables she spotted an empty table and took the seat facing the wall, knowing Jim would want to be able assess everything in the room while they were talking. The whole place was very sweet with small vases of flowers on each table and tiny flickering candles. It was the last place in the world anyone would look for a criminal mastermind.

"Molly, a very secluded table I see. Your not getting ideas are you?" Jim's voice crooned in her ear has he moved past her to take his seat. He placed a warm mug of coffee in front of her while taking a sip from his own cup.

She couldn't keep a blush creeping onto her face or her heart rate picking up a beat from the slight surprise. He looked perfectly at peace sitting opposite her, his hair was wild from the wind and his demeanor was relaxed. For some reason the calmness of it all bothered her. It shouldn't be this easy, for either of them. She should be mad at him and he shouldn't even be here at all. As the most wanted man in Britain how could he expect to get away with being out in public? It was only a matter of time before someone spotted him and she didn't even what to think about what would happen to her if she was caught with him.

"I can practically hear you thinking, you know," Jim murmured, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on the back of his hands.

"Do really think this is going to work?" she blurted out, her shoulders slouching as she changed her posture to match his.

"I'm assuming that you are referring to our hopefully reoccurring private meetings?" he asked, reaching out to tuck a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

"Yes," she replied, nodding her head minutely. She couldn't meet his eyes as she said it though, worried that she might do something stupid. His face was so close to hers now as they leaned across the small table and the thought of kissing him was far too prevalent in her mind.

"What are you so afraid of Molly?" he questioned, lifting her chin so that he could look her in the eye. It was a foolish question really, what shouldn't she be afraid of? He was a monster worthy of each and every fear she had. But he couldn't deny that he wished she wasn't scared of him.

"Right now that Lestrade or Sherlock will come barging through the door and throw us both in jail," she whispered, her eyes darting to the right to check no one was near them.

Jim chuckled. That would certainly be entertaining.

"Molly do you really think I would let that happen to you?" he said, giving her an amused smile.

"No. But I do question whether or not you would kill either of them to ensure that it didn't," she replied, her eyes studying his face for the answer she already knew.

"You know I would. But that's not going to be an issue, it would never come to that," he assured her.

"Good because if this is going to work I have to set some ground rules," she told him, the moral side of her brain fighting to have some say in this madness.

"Rules?" he questioned, his voice rising in pitch as he put on a dramatic look of surprise.

"Yes, rules," she confirmed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well, go on then," he prompted; letting her know that she had his full attention.

"Okay, well first of all you can't hurt any of them… John, Sherlock, Greg. And if you do I will leave. I don't care if you kill me, but I won't stay," she said, her voice shaking slightly. She didn't exactly want to die but she couldn't live with herself if she stayed with him knowing he had killed people she cared about. She knew her moral compass didn't exactly point north any longer but she still had limits.

"I thought we already discussed this, I don't care about them anymore. Believe it or not Molly I have no interest in hurting innocent people. I'm a consulting criminal darling, not a savage," he said, reaching out to take one of her hands in his own.

She smiled shyly at him, at a loss for what to say back to that. It was relief to know that she didn't have to worry about Jim killing Sherlock or anyone else she knew. The same couldn't be said in reverse though.

"So is that your only request my dear?" he prompted when she didn't show any signs of continuing.

She shook her head quickly. She knew she wasn't asking much, that she should have more issues with this that she did, but there was only one more thing she needed to know.

"You have to tell me why," she said firmly. She wasn't going to get into anything until she knew what exactly it was that made Jim even want to be with her.

"Why I came back?" he asked, unsure what she wanted to know.

"Why you came back to me," she clarified, giving him an imploring look. She didn't want to get her hopes up but it seemed like that had to be why he had come back.

"Molly Hooper," he began, the words rolling of his tongue slowly. "I will always come back to you. I have several times over the last few years. I was there the first Christmas you spent alone, and the second – "

"Why didn't you tell me?" she cut in, trying to push down the anger and hurt that flared up inside of her.

"I was trying to do the right thing for once and just leave you alone. You deserved to be left in peace. But the last three years have been insufferable, I kept thinking about you," he said, his face unreadable. He was, in his own way, pouring his heart out but his face was shut off, giving away nothing about how he was truly feeling.

She lifted a shaking hand to his face, unable to stop herself, and held it to his cheek. He flinched slightly at the contact before relaxing into it, his eyes closing for a moment.

"I couldn't last longer than a few months without coming to check on you. But nine months ago when I came to see you, you weren't alone," he continued, his face looking somewhat pained.

Doing the math wasn't hard. Nine months ago she had still been engaged to Tom.

"I couldn't stay away after that. When he broke it off with you not two months later, I had to do something. It was a rather stupid move looking back now, but I needed for you to know that I was alive. That I was still an option," he trailed off, unable to say anymore.

"Jim…" she sighed. She couldn't deny that she was hurt, it would have been so much easier if he had come back to her right away.

All the work she had put in over the last three years trying to get over him had come crashing down in one evening and she wasn't sure what she would do if he left her again.

"Do you think maybe we still have a chance to make this work?" he asked quietly.

He was tempted to say that he would change his ways, that he would be a better man, but it was pointless. She wouldn't believe those lies anyway.

She knew this was her final chance to walk away before she started anything that could damage both of them. But her mind had already been made up. It had been since the day she had first heard the name Jim Moriarty.

She nodded slowly, giving him a small smile. He didn't drop her gaze and she suddenly realized just how intimate their position was. One of her hands was still being covered by Jim's hand, while the other was still cupping his check.

She looked down at her untouched coffee cup when a pink tinge colored her checks.

"Why don't we get out of here? The coffee was awful anyway," he suggested, gently drawing circles on the back of her hand with his fingertips.

"Okay," she agreed, clearing her throat when her voice came out hoarse than she would have liked.

Standing to his feet he didn't let go of her hand as she stood up from her chair. Without looking back he quickly led them through the emptying room and out the front door.

Standing outside in the cold air her turned to look at Molly who was tightening her coat around her small frame. He felt a slight buzz in his pocket and took it out, seeing several new messages.

"You know I have to ask, how do go unnoticed in public?" she asked him as he texted away on his phone, obviously asking Cas to come back and get them.

"Hiding in plain sight," he muttered distractedly, his brow creasing in confusing.

She turned to look at the street when it was clear that he wasn't listening to her. It wasn't that she minded he was glued to his phone on their first date, if you could even call it that, but she doubted that whatever was holding his attention was anything good.

When the familiar Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb she had to tap his shoulder to even get him to notice.

Slipping the phone back into his pocket he held the door open for Molly as she got into the car. Closing the door behind him he caught Cas' eye in the mirror and nodded for him to leave.

"So where to Miss?" Cas asked after a moment.

She turned to look at Jim unsure as to what his plans had been when he had said they should leave.

"We're taking Miss Hooper home, Caster" Jim replied bluntly, his jaw set as he looked out the window.

"Alrighty Sir," Cas said, giving Molly a sympathetic look through the mirror before turning his attention back to driving.

Molly sat in an almost nervous silence. Something had obviously gone wrong. Sebastian was no longer in front seat, not that she was overly upset about that. But Jim looked worried under the mask of anger he had put on. His sudden mood swings were giving her whiplash, not five minutes ago he had looked the closest to happy she had ever seen him and now he was back to the cold, cruel man most of the world saw.

She didn't even want to know why Caster knew the fastest way to get to her house, but he did. It took all of fifteen minutes driving in utter silence for the car to pull up outside her apartment building.

Jim stepped out of the car without a word and waited outside for Molly to join him.

"Thank you," she said quickly to Cas before getting out of the car.

Cas smiled at her though the window as she walked around the car to meet Jim. He took her hand and led her over to the door, walking so fast that she almost had to run to keep up. She followed him, trying not to feel too hurt at the cold shoulder she was getting. She had to remind herself that this was Moriarty, not Tom. There wasn't going to be fish and chips and walks on the beach. She wasn't going to meet his parents or get proposed to over a nice dinner out.

Lost in thought she didn't realize they were standing outside her apartment until Jim stopped moving.

"Did you want to come in?" she mumbled while searching through her bag for her keys.

"No. Something came up," he said curtly, clearly desperate to get away.

"Okay, umm…" she trailed off as she unlocked her door; this wasn't how she had imagined this evening ending. She had spent the night at the morgue making up scenarios in which Jim came home with her and they spent the night together, but that clearly wasn't going to happen.

She turned back to face him through the open doorway, feeling her heart sink.

He stepped towards her and wrapped his arms around her, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her skin before placing a quick kiss to her neck. He pulled away from her after a moment, looking like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"I'll call," he promised, taking both her hands into his as he looked at her.

She couldn't find it in herself to doubt the sincerity of his words with the way he was looking at her but she just wished she knew what was going on. Everything had been fine until the moment they had stepped out of that café.

She didn't have time to dwell on that though because a moment later Jim let go of her hands and disappeared down the hall, and quiet possibly out her life for the second time.

She closed the door and sank down to the ground, not even bothering to take off her shoes as she leaned against the back of the door. She knew this feeling too well, the all consuming longing that came with heartache. She didn't know why she couldn't be like normal girls and find a nice boy and settle down. She had tried to be normal, she really had, but all that had gotten her was an engagement ring hidden in her closet and a photo album full of regrets.

Maybe that was her problem, she was naturally attracted to emotionless and ultimately dangerous men. She was too tired to think it all through now and forced herself to get up off the floor, only to collapse a moment later onto the old couch in her lounge.

Sinking into the worn fabric, her eyelids grew steadily heavier until she could no longer keep them open. As she slowly lost consciousness she saw Toby hopping up onto the couch and curling up on her lap. A sleepy smile formed on her face as she stroked her loyal friend. It wasn't long before he was gently purring and nuzzling into her. Her sleep riddled brain tried convince her, if only for a moment, that Jim Moriarty didn't matter and that she would be okay without him.

But as she dozed off into another night of restless sleep she knew it was a lie.


End file.
